Dawn's Farewell (5)
The mountain griffin, struck directly by the unknown beam, immediately lost its balance and began plummeting.
"Captain Bibian!"
Captain Bibian, who'd just fallen into the water, flailed wildly as she resurfaced. Right after, the griffin crashed into the lake, creating a torrent that swallowed us whole. After spinning in the water for what felt like forever, I finally steadied myself and rose to the surface.
"Puah!"
Captain Bibian clung to my neck, kicking frantically. "The gear's too heavy! I'm sinking!"
"Don't worry. I'll tow you."
I grabbed the back of her collar and swam slowly toward the lakeshore. The lake wasn't too big, so we soon touched solid ground and stood up.
"Haa…."
Captain Bibian collapsed onto the sandbar, peeling wet hair from her face as she caught her breath. She lifted her arm, sniffed it, and gave a weary smile while eyeing the lake. "At least the smell's gone."
"Those two floating out there—are they dead?"
Two mountain griffins bobbed on the surface. One had its wing joint severed by me, the other pierced through by the beam.
"If they're still like that, yeah, they're definitely dead."
Bagging two mountain griffins at once—today's haul was impressive. Found the nest in one go, killed the chicks, dealt with a minor hiccup mid-way, but wiped out the whole pair anyway.
But….
I looked down at my chest, where my armor was now a tattered rag. Fishing into my inner pocket, Dawn's Farewell gleamed with the same iridescent light as before, silent. No matter how I thought about it, this had to be the source of that weird beam. Blue light suggested magic, probably.
Suddenly, Orlean's dying words came back to me. Just keep it with you? Even just leaving it in the guild? It'll help somehow. Was that what he meant?
If I'd worn my Qurlatus armor today, I'd have almost ruined a valuable piece.
"By the way, Mr. Leonar. Are you a mage?"
Captain Bibian asked as I peered into Dawn's Farewell.
"No, nothing like that. Seems like it's because of this."
"It's cursed by a mage…."
She edged away from me, extremely wary.
"Anyway, this armor's a total mess. Ripped and soaked."
I stripped off the ruined armor and tossed it on the sandbar, then peeled off my inner shirt. No way was I riding a horse dripping wet; better let it dry a bit.
"What are those scars…?!"
Captain Bibian gaped at the scars covering my upper body.
"Picked 'em up here and there. How's your side?"
"Oh, right."
She finally remembered, wincing as she touched her flank. A deep gash showed through the tear in her armor.
"Urgh… it hurts like hell."
"Griffin beaks are rough-surfaced. Let's do some quick first aid. Come out and strip."
"Pardon?"
She stared blankly, so I repeated, "Come out and strip."
"You mean take off my clothes?"
"You gonna keep wet clothes on over a deep wound like that? Strip and dry off first. I'll stitch it up meanwhile."
"Stitch it?"
"It's torn. Gotta sew it. Riding like that with dirt and wind'll make it fester later."
"You can do that too?"
"I'm a Demon Hunter. Handle most things myself."
Captain Bibian tilted her head but obediently came ashore. We flapped our wet clothes as we headed to the bushes where we'd hidden the horses. There, I stripped off my combat boots, pants—everything—wringing out the water. Bibian was there, but I hated being wet and sticky.
A vanguard from the duchy legion wouldn't bat an eye at a naked guy anyway. They trained men and women the same, brutally.
Sure enough, she ignored me stripping and shed her own clothes completely—except her panties, of course.
Whoa, those muscles… insane. Though her chest was flat compared to Celestine or Leana. Suited her ripped build, though.
"No need to be shy, Mr. Leonar."
"That's my line. Anyway, hang my stuff up. I'll start a fire."
"Understood."
While she hung our clothes on branches, I gathered twigs. Dropped a few drops from a spare firebomb vial, stomped it for impact, and flames whooshed up.
Captain Bibian watched in fascination. "What's that? Earlier, when you threw it, it exploded with fire."
"Oh, this? One of the potionsDemon Hunters love. Not for drinking—hurts the enemy directly."
"So there are ones you drink?"
"Most are. Boost your body in various ways, depending on the goal."
"Like drugs or something?!"
Typical border guard investigator—drugs came up right away.
"Not drugs. Poison."
"Poison?!"
"Normals die if they drink it."
Words alone wouldn't convince her, so I pulled out the strongest one I'd brought, sprinkling a bit on the ground. Yellow smoke rose, withering grass, and her jaw dropped.
"See? Not drugs."
I capped it safely, then grabbed my saddlebag for surgical tools and a blanket.
"Lie on your side here, wound up, back to me."
I spread the blanket by the fire. She lay as instructed, groaning. "It really hurts."
"Gonna hurt more for a sec."
"Pardon?!"
Before she could turn, I poured antiseptic from a vial onto the wound.
"Gaaahhh!!"
She thrashed in pain. "Hold still."
I pinned her shoulder, doused it more, then smeared anesthetic around the edges.
"Huh? What… it doesn't hurt anymore?"
"Numbing agent."
"Numbing…? Hmmm…."
She looked highly suspicious. Fair—it's basically a real narcotic. Dulls senses on skin, hallucinations if drunk. For blocking pain in battle, keep fighting.
"No feeling, right?"
I pressed her nail into it; she nodded.
"Starting now."
Needle and thread soaked in antiseptic—I stitched quickly.
"Weird sound."
"Needle piercing flesh."
Big wound took time, but I finished cleanly. Stitching my own countless times—another person's was easy.
Smeared thick ointment over it. Anti-inflammatory, promotes healing. All homemade.
Potions, potions, potions. From body-boosting elixirs to basic antiseptics.
A max-level Demon Hunter is different. Means your body withstands extreme poisons. Higher levels build tolerance to more types; at max, immune to all. Drink any potion, no life threat.
The insane pain when drinking? Still there.
Link with Hunting Dog's Mark, and against demons, you're a monster. Demon-only munchkin, basically. Even humans need serious skill to fight a max-level one.
What a junkie.
I sat Captain Bibian up, bandaged her tight.
"Get holy healing from Celestine at the guild. You'll be good by dinner."
"Thank you. Surgeon-level skill."
"Better than a field medic, probably."
She chuckled, warming her palms by the fire. "So, promotion to major now? First guard to charge a griffin nest sword-in-hand, I bet."
"Haha, who knows. Not that easy. No academy background."
"Oh? Then?"
"Started as a grunt. Got lucky to major."
Hmm, from private to captain? Proves her skill. Academies train officers; she's at a disadvantage. Hence risking life for merits. Impressive… and a bit pitiful.
Time to recover the griffin corpses. Leave 'em, they'll sink soon.
"Dry off here. I'll fetch the bodies."
"How?"
I pointed to hooks and ropes on the saddle. She marveled.
"Do Demon Hunters carry everything? Nothing missing."
"Gotta, to survive. Stay put."
As I grabbed hooks and rope, she stood too.
"Won't hook the corpse? I'll hold the rope."
Hm, why not? Stitched and ointed; holding rope's fine.
"Good."
Swam out with hook, jammed it into a thick hind leg, tied secure, swam back.
"Pull."
We gripped side-by-side, hauling the griffin corpse with all our might.